I’m sitting here
Thinking of what to write
Plenty of ideas come to mind
But none of them seem right

My brain is a storm
Ideas fly high
Too many of them
Most are lost in the sky

What will I do?
What will I see?
I’m afraid my imagination’s
Running away from me

Come back to English class, girl
You’re time’s almost done
But never fear
The day has been won

You’ve written a poem
Though not by intention
It’s a good thing
You’re hand provided an intervention

You’ve got three minuets left
Oh what should you do?
It’s a sad shame this poem
Is over and through